


Trying Something New

by PeaceHeather



Series: OUAT Fics [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abandoned WIP, Gen, Pre-ship, Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:18:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6554356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceHeather/pseuds/PeaceHeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if, on the beanstalk, Emma had decided not to chain Hook in the giant's castle after all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an abandoned WIP that I'm importing to AO3 for the sake of completeness. There are eight chapters written, and that's all there will ever be. I've left this fandom behind. Sorry for that -- I hope you enjoy what there is here, at least.

“Swan! _Swan!_ ”

She was walking away. Leaving him here, in a giant’s castle, chained up like an animal while she walked away with the only hope he had left tucked into her purse.

“You would do this to me?  To _me_?” He screamed at her.  “You miserable – you demanded the truth and I gave it!  I offered you my help and you took it!  I turned my back on _Cora_ for you, Swan – for _you_!  Do you have any idea what she’s capable of, what she’ll do to me for aiding you?  She’ll rip my heart out of my chest and make me watch as she destroys it, if I’m lucky!  And I chose you anyway!  I _chose_ you, Swan – and this is how you repay me?!”

Hook yanked at the manacle again, in anger and rising panic.  It held; of course it bloody held.

At the sound, though, she stopped, a few paces away, though she kept her back to him.  Her shoulders were rigid and one hand kept clenching and unclenching into a fist.

“I gave you every honesty,” he said, more quietly but no less intensely.  “I couldn’t best you with lies and trickery and you know full well I’m not lying now.  Cora – she, she wanted me to _win_ you, she wanted me to ply you for information about your world.  And have I done that?  Have I?  Have I asked you _one question_ about your realm, demanded any secrets from you?  You know I haven’t.”

Her head ducked for a second; in that cavernous chamber Hook could swear he heard her swallowing.  Her breath was harsh in the silence.

“You _know_ I haven’t,” he pleaded.  “You know this is wrong; I saw your face.  You know I’ve done nothing to deserve this from you.”

“I can’t,” he heard her say.  She still refused to look at him, and his anger returned, hot in his chest.

“Can’t what?” he demanded.  “Can’t trust?  Can’t keep faith with someone who’s bloody well earned it?”  Killian jerked his arm again, fighting the urge to thrash his way free, and saw her flinch as the heavy chain rattled.  “You can’t do that, but you’ve no trouble turning your back on someone who’s come this far with you?  Is it really so easy for you to just _abandon_ me here?” he said, his voice harsh, and she flinched again at the word.  “Tell me something, love, is it really me you can’t–”

“Dreams,” she blurted, and Killian stopped short.  “It’s – they –”  Swan stopped, caught her breath.  “Dreams… _mean_ something.  Here.  Right?”

Well, that was certainly unexpected, he thought, feeling the anger wash out of him in a rush.

“You mean, in this realm?” he asked, warily.  The manacle weighed heavily on his wrist, and he flexed his fingers.

The girl still kept her back to him, but her head turned a little, and she nodded hesitantly.  Wary as a woodland creature, she was.  Like she was cocking one ear toward him.

“They can, sometimes,” he said slowly, feeling his way.  “Or so I’ve always been told.  You’re supposed to be able to tell, when it’s one of that sort.   Can’t say whether the tales have the right of it; if they do, then I’ve never had one, myself.”

“I, um,” Swan ran a hand through her hair, “these… I – months.”  She glanced at him, away, at the floor, away again.  Had he thought of her as wary?  It was more like _trapped,_ the way her gaze darted about.  Looking for escape.  “I’ve been… but only pieces, I-I didn’t – and… and this.  Parts of it are – familiar.” 

Oh, tread carefully here, mate.

“Emma,” he said softly, pitching his voice low.  “Would you look at me, love?  Please.”

Finally, finally she turned around – and Fortune help him, she was shaking.  He drew himself up in shock.  One of the toughest bints he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, hell, one of the very few, man or woman, to best him fair and square – and she was actually standing there _shaking_ , quivering with – what?  Terror?

What the hell had she _seen_?

“You’re saying… you’ve had dreams – of this?”  Deliberately, slowly, Killian took a step back, holding his arms out a little.  _Not a threat_ , he was telling her, _nothing here to harm you_.  She didn’t answer, blinking rapidly and looking back and forth between him and the chain, now slack and swinging between his wrist and the stone.  “I can’t make you tell me,” he said quietly.  “You’ve got what we came for,” and he hoped that ‘we’ wasn’t a misstep, “and I certainly can’t keep you here.  But if you think you’ve no choice, if you really believe that you have to leave me like this… I’d like to at least know why.”

Her breath left her in a rush, her eyes shut tight, and she shuddered.  He could see it on her face, the moment Swan decided that yes, she owed him that much.

Thank Providence.


	2. Chapter 2

Previously:

_Her breath left her in a rush, her eyes shut tight, and she shuddered.  He could see it on her face, the moment Swan decided that yes, she owed him that much._

_Thank Providence._

 

“You were wrong,” she started.  “Earlier.  On the beanstalk.  I’m not an orphan.” Wouldn’t look at him, and he could see her fighting not to cross her arms in self-protection.  Fighting not to reveal even that much; never mind the walking away and the stammer and the harsh breaths, as if she had to force enough air in to be able to get words out.  Never mind the bloody _shaking_.

“I’m not an orphan,” she said again, “and I wasn’t – abandoned.”  And there it went, one hand clutching the other elbow for about a second before she let go again.  “They didn’t – that wasn’t the way they wanted it to happen.  But the way it turned out… from a child’s perspective… I may as well have been.”

Killian kept his face impassive; it might be hard to see what this had to do with her having prophetic dreams, but it wasn’t too difficult to chart the course between her past and his predicament.

“See, I’m not from Storybrooke,” she went on.

Another jump in the narrative; he frowned, trying to keep up.  “You’re from a different realm?” he asked.

“No,” Swan replied.  “No, it’s – Storybrooke is the name of the town.  The – the world, I guess – we don’t have a name for it, really.  Earth?  The world?”  She shrugged.  “But Storybrooke is where all these…” She stopped herself, frowning, shaking her head, her eyes far away.  “I don’t even know,” she sighed.  “The whole damn thing _happened_ to me, I was there, hell I _caused_ part of it, and I still don’t completely… believe it.”

Something to break the tension, he thought.  “Am I correct in assuming,” he tried, “that this is the sort of tale that is better told after cracking at least one cask of rum?”

To his delight, Emma snorted.  “God,” she said drily.  “Try two.  One for you and one for me.”  Still wouldn’t meet his eyes, but her entire posture loosened, and she scrubbed her face with both hands for a second.  He fought a smile; if that wasn’t an opening…

“Well, darling,” he purred, laying it on thick, “if you wanted to come away with me for a… _drink_ ,” he paused to look her up and down, “you could have said so _long_ before now.”  Just as he’d hoped, she finally faced him completely, meeting his eyes with a look of annoyance that was already becoming familiar.  He held up his manacled wrist, added a little pout for effect.  “No need to go to such lengths to get my attention.”

Damn.  He’d pushed her too hard; Killian saw her eyes fix on the heavy chain and freeze as she stiffened again.  The mood Swan was in, she’d likely turn on her heel and go…

Or would she?  Had he pushed her just the right amount, after all?  Because she wasn’t giving off that hunted-animal impression; instead she shook herself, fixed him with an absolutely _withering_ glare, and when she did turn on her heel after a moment, it was to start pacing.  Muttering under her breath, too, which for some reason Killian found adorable.

He could only make out the occasional word or phrase as she stalked to and fro. “Stupid,” he heard, and “can’t believe” and “Mary Margaret, I _swear_ ” which made no sense whatever.

He was just about to toss a smart remark her way when Swan halted in her tracks, spun, and stomped over to where she’d dropped Jack’s giant-killing sword.  She snatched it up off the pavement, stood, and marched over to him, and damn if he didn’t find himself suddenly just a little nervous.

She stopped just out of his reach, chest heaving with angry breaths.

“Here’s how it’s gonna be,” she said, eyes all afire.  “I’m going to tell you this story, and you’re going to listen, and then you’re going to pretend you never heard a _word_ of it.  Because so help me, if _any_ of this comes back to bite me on the ass, from any direction _ever_ , I will know who it was who spilled his guts.  And I will _find_ you, and I _will_ hurt you.”  She brought the sword up in a two-handed grip, and set her feet.  “Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” he replied with utmost sincerity, trying very hard not to let that blade distract his focus on her.

She blew out a breath sharply, dainty little nose flaring.  “Pull the chain tight,” she ordered, and his eyebrows shot up as he realized what she had in mind.

Fates protect him, she was amazing.

It was over in an instant; he stepped to one side and stretched the chain, spreading his feet wide and bracing his forearms together, and she reared back and swung the sword like a headsman’s axe – really put her back into it, too, he couldn’t help but notice – and the chain not only sliced neatly in two with a shower of sparks, it _crumbled_ , from the point of impact outward in both directions, until there was nothing but a pile of sand on the floor to show where he’d been bound.

The blade dropped to the stones with a clatter as Killian stumbled back a pace.  Swan stared at the sand for a moment before looking up at him, seemingly shocked at what she’d done.

“I didn’t…” she stammered after a few seconds. “In… in the dream I walked away. I-I just…”

No, he realized – at what she’d _allowed_ herself to do.

Bloody hell, he thought.  When the girl decided to try something new, she didn’t take half measures, did she?

Killian stepped up to her, reached up to touch a lock of hair, stopped himself when he noticed that she’d started trembling again.  “Thank you,” he said instead.  She wouldn’t look at him, so he ducked until he could meet her gaze.  “Emma – thank you.”

She searched his eyes for any hint of deception, took a deep breath, nodded her head in acknowledgment.  “Shut up,” she said.

He couldn’t have stopped the grin that spread across his face, even if he’d wanted to.


	3. Chapter 3

Previously:

_She searched his eyes for any hint of deception, took a deep breath, nodded her head in acknowledgment.  “Shut up,” she said._

_He couldn’t have stopped the grin that spread across his face, even if he’d wanted to._

 

Swan took another deep breath and let it out nervously.  “Sit down.”  Waved at the pile of rocks behind him.  “I’m not gonna climb and tell this story, both.  And we have a little time yet.”

He brushed bits of gravel off the nearest boulder and got comfortable.  “Time for what?”

She grimaced, and found her own spot to rest, a few feet away from him.  “I, uh, I told Mulan that if I wasn’t back in ten hours, she should cut down the beanstalk and go on without me.  Find another way home.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, impressed despite the implications.  “You’re a ruthless one, aren’t you?”

“When I have to be,” she said evenly.  “And I’ve had to be.  A lot.”

“You have thoroughly captivated my attention,” he said.  Softened the smile a bit; she gave him another of those looks, but he caught the hint of amusement at the corner of her mouth.  “I’m afraid I haven’t any more rum with me, just at the moment,” he said, “having used the last of it on your hand.  But if it will encourage you to tell your tale, I’ll happily stand surety for those casks you mentioned earlier.”

“Assuming we both make it out of here in piece, you’re on,” she said, “Except, I’m not even sure where I’m supposed to _start_.”

“I’ve always thought ‘begin at the beginning’ to be sound advice,” he suggested.

“Well, then, the beginning would be the curse,” said Emma.  Rubbed at her forehead with the fingertips of one hand. “The one that messed everything up, twenty-eight years ago.”

“I’m familiar,” he said.

“Mm,” she replied, “but you probably don’t know that the curse is what actually created Storybrooke.  The town, I mean.  It somehow – and don’t ask, because I have no idea – the curse gathered up a whole bunch of people from _this_ world, or realm or whatever you call it, and whooshed them away and dropped them in my world.  Without their memories.”

Killian frowned.  Apparently Cora had told the truth about that much, at least.  “They were… lost, then?” he asked.

“No, that’s more of the weird part,” said Swan, shaking her head.  “This whole town just… sprang up overnight, full of people who, as far as they knew, had _always lived there_.  Everybody was happy and cheerful – reasonably – and had ordinary normal lives, and jobs, and friendships and whatever.  Only nobody ever got older, nobody was born or died, nobody _ever_ entered or left the town… and nobody _noticed_.”  She frowned and looked at her hands.  “Until my son found me, and brought me back.”

“Your son found _you_ ,” Killian repeated.

“Yeah,” she grimaced again.  “I haven’t seen him since he was born,” she said softly.  “I’ve only just found him again – or, like I said, he found _me_ – and I’m sure as hell not going to lose him now.”

He watched her squint, trying to come up with the way to explain it all.  “I was born in Storybrooke,” she said slowly, “but I’m not from there.”  Glanced his way.  “This will be important later.”  There was another long moment of silence while she sat, looking off into the distance, before she said, “Okay.  This part is important too.  Cora wants to know something about our world?  Until just a few weeks ago, _magic didn’t exist._   As far as I know, outside of Storybrooke it still doesn’t, and _inside_ Storybrooke it doesn’t work the way everybody says it’s supposed to.”  She looked directly at him and added, “This is not a secret.  Cora would figure it out about thirty seconds after she got there, assuming she doesn’t know already.”

“Understood,” he replied.  Both the Queen and her daughter had mentioned the absence of magic; used it as a goad to convince him to go along with their plots.  He also understood what Swan wasn’t saying.  Cora had sent Killian to infiltrate their little group, learn whatever else he could about their world; Swan might have decided to trust him, but she still wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision, and even if she had, she wasn’t going to give him anything Cora could use against them.

Sensible of her, really.

“Just before the curse hit, my parents found some way to get me out of there – to protect me.  Except I was still a newborn, and the only person they could send with me was a seven-year-old kid.”  Her voice dropped.  “We got separated, I guess,” she said, voice low and painful.  “I grew up – my world has this system where kids without parents, or whose parents are unfit for some reason, are sent to live with other families.  It’s supposed to be temporary – a few months, maybe a year – but it doesn’t always work out that way.  Some families are great, they want to take care of the kids they get.  Some of them just want the money that the government gives them to cover expenses.”

She glanced up to see how Killian was taking all this; he just looked at her steadily, saying nothing.  He had a fair idea already of which families Swan had seen more of – the Lost Boys didn’t get that look in their eyes because of an _abundance_ of care, after all.

“So yeah,” she went on, “eventually I got old enough that I wasn’t part of the system anymore, and I wound up on my own.  Surprise, surprise, I started stealing.”  Swan eyed him then, sidelong, with a little quirk to her mouth.  “Got pretty good at it, too.  There’s a reason you think I’d make a decent pirate.”

 _Decent_ be damned, he almost replied.  She’d have made a _terrific_ pirate.  The two of them could’ve –

But no.  Best not to even think of it.  _Rocky shoals, mate_ , he told himself.

Swan looked at her hands again, and this time her voice came out ragged, hoarse.  “And then I met… someone.  I, um… we –” She blinked rapidly, hard, and took a shuddering breath.  “Things… happened.”

Of course _things happened_ , he found himself thinking.  A Lost Girl gets found, and probably for the first time in her life she’s treated, she _feels,_ like something other than yesterday’s rubbish.  Killian held back a sigh; a much younger, more naive Swan would likely have thrown herself right into this _someone’s_ arms, whoever he was.  The only question was whether he’d been worthy of her.

…although, why was Killian asking himself that question?

“And your son?” he prompted, shaking off the thought.

“And my son,” she agreed.  “He happened too.  I didn’t find out I was pregnant until I was already in prison.  _He_ never knew.”  Her voice hardened.  “Whether I was in love, or not – you asked, but it’s none of – either way, he wasn’t.  It was all just a lie.  A big game to him.  He was a con artist, I probably should’ve figured out he was just running another con, on me.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed.  As a sailor, he’d had his fair share of women; as a pirate, he’d committed plenty of crimes.  But he’d never had to buy a woman, never had to force one, and he’d never put any serious effort into convincing one that she meant more to him than a night or two of pleasure.

It was strange, given that Killian barely knew her, that the thought of someone manipulating Emma’s affections made his eyes narrow and his hand twitch toward the hilt of his cutlass.

Mentally, he shook himself.  _Rocky shoals…_ Swan was a rare treasure, after all, and deserved better.  It was only reasonable that he should recognize that, acknowledge it.  Didn’t mean that he _cared_ about her, all of a sudden.  She was a means to an end – the far better of his two options, to be sure – but nothing more.

He shouldn’t have to remind himself of that.

“We’d arranged to meet somewhere,” she was saying, “after I picked up a box for him; stuff he’d stolen before we met.  The police were looking for him, but they’d never seen _me_ , so I offered…”  She shook her head, hard.  “Details don’t matter.  The end of it was that he’d set me up.  We arranged to meet, and when I got there, the police were waiting – for _me,_ specifically.”

 _Miserable cur,_ Killian thought.  Hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Swan nodded.

“He definitely was,” she said.  “Like I said: con artist.  Smooth talker, knew how to use his looks, _really_ good at convincing people to trust him…”  She gave him a pointed look.  Ah.  “He said we made a hell of a _team_.”

Yes, yes, he got it, no need to be so blunt about it.  Killian narrowed his eyes again, insulted, but still aware enough to know this wasn’t really about him.  “I suppose I can see the parallels,” he said.  “On the surface,” and gave her back a pointed look of his own.

He didn’t say, _and so you learned that it was better to betray your partner before they could betray you_ , but he knew he didn’t have to.  They both understood what she’d meant to do to him.

But it was one thing to be stabbed in the back by a partner you’d trusted, and another entirely to have your heart broken by him, into the bargain.  It was no wonder Swan hadn’t wanted to share this tale with him – any bit of it that she revealed would have been too much; any crumb she dropped marked a trail leading straight back to the Lost Girl she still was, inside.

Killian caught himself with a start, _again_ , just as he’d started wondering if she even realized how clearly visible her broken heart was.  There was no denying that she was brilliant, but that very brilliance was a distraction from his real goals and it was high bloody time he set it aside and _focused_.

Emma shrugged, acknowledging his point.  “Anyway,” she said with a sigh, “that was the last time I worked with a partner.  Last time I worked at all, really.”  Her eyes grew sad, gazing back at painful memories.  “He set me up,” she went on, “and because of him I ended up in prison for eleven months.  First-time offender,” she explained.  “The stuff was valuable enough, it could’ve been a lot longer… uh, sorry.  Not really relevant, I guess.  Anyway.  I had Henry while I was in prison, and then… I gave him up.”

To Killian’s astonishment, Swan reached up and scrubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes.  “I mean, technically I probably had a choice,” she said, “whether or not to keep him – but I was _in prison_ , and I was seventeen.  So I gave him up, because there was no way I could give him the kind of life he deserved.  And I never saw him again, until last year.”


	4. Chapter 4

Previously:

_To Killian’s astonishment, Swan reached up and scrubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes.  “I mean, technically I probably had a choice,” she said, “whether or not to keep him – but I was in prison, and I was seventeen.  So I gave him up, because there was no way I could give him the kind of life he deserved.  And I never saw him again, until last year.”_

 

She was quiet for a long moment, struggling to compose herself.

“Very well,” he said into the silence, “I grant that you’ve been given reason to believe that _every_ dashing stranger is only out to betray you.  I understand why you might believe that the more _wickedly_ handsome you find a man, the less trustworthy he must be underneath his incredibly charming exterior.”  Killian smiled when she rolled her eyes at him.  “What I don’t understand,” he went on, “is how this tale brings you from your world to mine.”

“Henry found me,” she replied, “don’t ask me how, but he somehow got adopted by… someone living in Storybrooke… and even though no one else aged, he did.  And then he left, which nobody else has ever done, and found me, and brought me back with him.  Brought me home, I guess you could say.  But the whole time we’re together, he’s _insisting_ on all these things that are just – just _impossible_ to believe.  There _is_ no magic in my world, remember?  But he’s going on about – curses, and spells.  Fairy tales.  I mean – okay, look.  Where I come from, _Captain Hook_ is a fictional character in kids’ story books, okay?”  She swept a hand out in front of her, taking in the entirety of the giant’s treasure trove.  “Jack and the Beanstalk – Snow White and the Seven Dwarves – hell, Little Red Riding Hood.  They’re just _bedtime stories_ ,” she insisted, a little desperately, “they’re not supposed to be _real_.  _None_ of them are real, _you’re_ not real!”

Well, that explained the cow and harp she’d mentioned earlier.

“Beg to differ, darling,” he said; readied another remark to get under her skin, but she looked at him with such anguish in her eyes that he fell silent, all the humor dropping away.

“I found a place to stay,” she said quietly.  “Moved in with Mary Margaret, got to be friends – really friends – with her, and with Ruby.  Hung out with David, got a job with him and,” she swallowed painfully, “and Graham.  Did my best to ignore Mr. Gold.  Got _into it_ with Henry’s adoptive mother.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, and he had to lean in to hear her.  “I was making a life there.  It was… And the whole time, Henry is trying to talk to me about this curse, about _magic_ , and I couldn’t believe any of it.  And because I didn’t believe it, Graham died.”  She took a great, shuddering breath.  “He started trying to tell me that he was the Huntsman – that the Evil Queen had his heart – and I didn’t listen to him either, and then he dropped dead, right in front of me.”

Killian’s blood ran cold.  “His heart was crushed,” he said with absolute certainty, his voice flat.

Emma shook her head, over and over.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “Maybe, but… I don’t know.  I don’t have any way to know.”  She took a deep breath, looked up to the cavern ceiling.  “What I do know is that eventually, I broke the curse.  And apparently it had to be me to do it – God, people are talking about _prophecies,_ calling me the town’s _savior_ now, and barely five minutes later I ended up _here_ …”

“You’ll return,” said Killian.  “I know it in my bones.  You will.  Your son is waiting.”

“Damn right he is,” she replied.  “It’s just… I broke this curse, and suddenly all of this stuff is real after all.”  She huffed a laugh that held no humor in it.  “Suddenly _this_ person’s a werewolf, and _that_ one is a witch… Suddenly I actually have parents, who I didn’t recognize because they hadn’t _aged_ in the last twenty-eight years, and they’re freaking Snow White and Prince Charming.”

 _What?_ Her parents, _Emma’s_ parents, were –

Once the shock of that statement wore off, Killian couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing.  “You’re a _princess_!” he crowed, batting aside Swan’s glare as he doubled over helplessly.  “ _You’re_ a bloody princess.”

“Shut up,” she growled.

“It’s brilliant,” he insisted, still laughing.  “Tell me, highness, how did her majesty react when she learned that her daughter was a petty thief before saving all of Storybrooke?”  He caught his breath, grinning.  “Please, I beg you, I must know – did she faint away in shock?  Wring her hands and fret in her brocade and velvet and lace?”

“You think this is funny,” she growled.  Luckily for his hide, he heard the warning in her tone.

“Oh, I assure you, darling, not in the least,” he said.  “Not _you_.  Never you.  You’re bloody amazing, is what you are.  No – I’m just trying to imagine the faces of the ever-so-pure royalty when they found out they’d not got a delicate little wisp of a thing to be their princess, all,” he waved his hand about aimlessly, “rose petals and spun sugar.”  He sniffed, winked at her.  “Decorative and useless,” he declared.  “I bet _you_ bloody terrified them.”

Swan said nothing for a long moment, just stared at him, absolutely deadpan.  Again, Killian found himself wondering: had he pushed her too far?  As his grin faded, the glint in her eye grew into something positively wicked, and Killian found that he couldn’t decide if he should be concerned or thrilled to see what she was going to do next.

Finally she gave just the tiniest of smirks.  “You’ve met my mom, Hook,” she said calmly.  Cocked her head toward the giant’s courtyard.  “You know; the archer?  The scary one, who doesn’t take any of your shit?”  Her smirk grew.  “The night before we met you, she shot an ogre in the eye, in the dark, first attempt.”  She leaned in just a little.  “Dropped him like a rock.”

Killian blinked.  Would she never cease to surprise him?  “You’re joking,” he said.

“She said she hadn’t even _held_ a bow in twenty-eight years,” Swan pressed.  Her smirk turned into a grin with a dangerous edge to it.  “That she was a little out of practice or she would have brought him down even _faster_.”  She leaned in farther, her grin dropping away, and for the first time in his _life_ , Killian Jones found himself leaning _away_ from a beautiful woman who was close enough to embrace.  “But _thank you_ ,” she said softly, “for implying that my family wouldn’t have wanted me anyway, even if they’d kept me.”

Swan might be playing it for a joke, but he’d gotten fairly skilled at reading her already, and could see the hurt lurking behind her eyes.

Lost Girl, he reminded himself.  If he wasn’t very, very careful…

“I implied no such thing,” he said seriously.  “Or if I did, then I misspoke.  It certainly wasn’t my intention.”  He meant what he said, every word; but would she believe him?

“Oh good,” she said, still in that soft, almost gentle tone.  “I’ll be sure to pass that along, when we get back to camp tonight.”

Just the thought unnerved him so completely that he almost missed the ‘ _we’_.  Swan sat back, taking a breath, and Killian did the same.

Fortune protect him, she was… formidable.


	5. Chapter 5

_“Oh good,” she said, still in that soft, almost gentle tone.  “I’ll be sure to pass that along, when we get back to camp tonight.”_

_Just the thought unnerved him so completely that he almost missed the ‘we’.  Swan sat back, taking a breath, and Killian did the same._

_Fortune protect him, she was… formidable._

 

So he fell back on a familiar defense.  “I can say with utmost sincerity, sweetheart, that anybody who didn’t want you at first sight – for… _any_ reason,” he purred, “would be worse than a fool, and entirely unworthy of you.”

He grinned when she turned her annoyed glare his way.  “Do you _ever_ stop?” she asked.

“Whyever should I?” he countered; looked up at her though his lashes.  “The man who does not dare to try has no hope of success.”

“You still don’t,” she deadpanned.  “But keep dreaming, buddy.”

Killian smiled, let the obvious rejoinder slip by; his remark had done what he’d meant it to.  “So, you haven’t changed your mind,” he tried, dropping the act, “– decided to leave me here after all?”

“I should,” she sighed, and he felt his shoulders loosen in relief.  Her tone already told him she wouldn’t, even before she added, “but I still haven’t told you the rest of the story.”

“And a fascinating tale it is,” he said.  “But if you’d prefer not to…”

“No, it’s fine,” she said.  “There’s not a whole lot more to tell – just the part about the dreams.  The only thing is, I’m not completely sure what I should _do_ about them.”

“You mean, about what you saw?” asked Killian.

“I didn’t see very much,” she frowned.  “I think they started right around the same time as I got to Storybrooke, but I didn’t really notice at first.  They weren’t even dreams, they were – pieces of dreams… if that makes sense.”  She drew her knees up, shifted in her seat.  “A couple of words, or a – a part of a picture.”

“How did you know they were significant, then?” Killian asked.

“I started getting them more often,” she replied simply.  “And some of the pieces started to fit together.  I still don’t have the whole picture, but…” She shook her head.  “Then after we came _here_ , things started lining up – I mean, what I was dreaming started to match what was happening – but it took me awhile to figure it out.  To catch on.”  She frowned, shook her head again.  “Like… I didn’t realize until earlier today that I’d seen your earring before.”

“Ordinarily, this is the point where I’d be obligated to say something about how many women have claimed to dream of me,” he mused.  Let it go with a smile when she gave him that look again.  “Is that how you knew I was no blacksmith?  You recognized me?”

“No,” she said honestly.  “Sorry to disappoint, but your face was never one of the pieces that I got.”  She shrugged.  “It’s like I said – I can tell when people are lying to me.”  A smile, a real one, blossomed on her face for just an instant.  “Henry calls it my superpower.”  The smile faded, replaced with a look of worry.  “God, what am I – we’re wasting time, every minute we’re sitting here is –”

“Is another minute away from your son,” said Killian.  “And another minute Cora has to catch up to you.”  He looked at her steadily, eyes cool.  “So what do you want to do about it?”

There was anger and consternation in her eyes when she answered him.  “What the hell do you mean, ‘do?’” she demanded, sitting up straight.  “I’m already doing everything I possibly –”

“The dreams, love,” he interrupted gently.  “As you suspected, such things do carry meaning in this world, and in many others as well.  Of course, _what_ they mean is open to debate. What you’ve seen could be a guide toward the best course of action, or a warning of what to avoid – or even an indication of your own destiny.”  He spread his hands, one flesh, one steel, and raised his eyebrows.  “You have a valuable source of information; have you made use of it?”

Killian could see the tension in her jaw as she averted her eyes.  “Only once,” she said finally.  Her glance darted between his wrist and the pile of sand on the floor, that had until recently been an uncomfortably heavy chain and manacle.  “In the dreams, I – I think I left.  I mean, that was the plan – the giant would have kept you here for a few more hours, and then let you go.  I just… needed a head start.”  She hopped down from her spot on the boulder, approached the sand to drag a toe through it.  “I wouldn’t have done this, if I didn’t think I had to,” she said quietly.  “You know that, right?”

There were too many answers he could give to that, and most of them wouldn’t help.  “I’m pleased you changed your mind,” was all he said.

“Don’t make me regret it.”  Swan dragged her boot through the sand again.  “Yeah, last time I got screwed over.  This time?  If I’m wrong…”  She shut her eyes and turned her face away, one of those motions that almost looked casual.  If one weren’t studying her every move.  If one missed the little tremble that she tried to suppress.  “There’s a lot more at stake.  A _lot_ more.  It won’t just be me that pays the price.  Mulan and Aurora.  My mother.  My _son_.”  She swallowed once, hard.  “You could still get the compass away from us, meet up with Cora.  She’s more powerful than we are, she has magic.  And you – no offense –”

“What, is it the pirate thing again?” he asked, joking but with an edge.  Her reasoning was sound enough; but she’d decided to trust him, hadn’t she?  Could she really, after all this, change her mind so easily?

Emma sighed.  “You’ve made it perfectly clear that you’ve got one goal, and you’ll make any deal that will get you closer to it.  Trouble is, I think you’d _break_ any deal, too, if you thought that would work out better.”  Made herself look at him, eyes sad.  “We’re just convenient for you, Hook.  What happens when we become less convenient than Cora?”

Again, her reasoning was sound, making it a valid point, if irritating.  “If it’s any reassurance, love, the fact that none of you are capable of reaching straight into my chest and ripping my heart out does a very great deal to improve the ‘convenience’ factor, as you put it, for your party.”  Killian stood, stepping lightly down off the rocks to face her.  “I also find that I much prefer being captain of a lowly pirate ship, to being the errand-boy of a queen, no matter how powerful she is.”

Swan began picking her way among the tumbled piles of treasure, back toward the entrance.  “Yeah, that’s a hell of a leash she’s got on you,” she muttered absently.

In two leaps he’d caught up to her, grabbing her arm and whirling her around to face him.  “ _What did you just say to me?_ ” he demanded, feeling the rage burning hot in his chest once more.

“What?” she gasped, all wide-eyed and innocent looking.  He could almost kill her just for that.  “I didn’t –”

“ _Leash_ ,” he snarled at her, and she… blinked.

“I – that didn’t come out right,” Swan stammered.  “It wasn’t even – I was thinking to myself, I didn’t realize I’d said anything.”

“But you did,” he cut her off, voice low and tight with anger he was barely keeping in check, “and now I _suggest_ you explain yourself.”


	6. Chapter 6

_“I – that didn’t come out right,” Swan stammered.  “It wasn’t even – I was thinking to myself, I didn’t realize I’d said anything.”_

_“But you did,” he cut her off, voice low and tight with anger he was barely keeping in check, “and now I_ suggest _you explain yourself.”_

 

His grip on her arm tightened; Swan winced, and then he saw anger rising in her own eyes in response.  “And _I_ suggest you let go of my arm before you find out what a broken nose feels like,” she warned.  Jerked her arm away from him with a little grunt and took a step back.  “And I’m sorry it came out that way, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“ _True?_ That Cora has a _leash_ on me?!” he exclaimed, even more furious because, damn her, it _hurt_ to think she saw him that way. “You’re calling me her _dog_?”

“No!” she yelled.  Threw her arms up in the air.  “I’m _saying_ that I’ve had just a _little_ bit of experience being manipulated by people and having decided to never let it happen again, I _learned_ how the game is played!”

She stepped in close to him, that fire in her eyes again, and Killian found himself helpless to look away.  “You want revenge on Gold – Rumpelstiltskin,” she said.  “Fine.  You have your reasons – fine.  I can respect that.  But you’ve gotten so completely focused on him, it’s like you can’t see anything else.”  She scoffed, shut her eyes and shook her head a little.  “ _Believe_ me; I know what that’s like.”    She looked up at him again and went on, voice softer, “Your _vengeance_ is such a hot button for you, that all anybody has to do is say his name and you _stop thinking_.  And then they can _use you_ however the hell they want.”

Killian scowled at her, clenching his jaw so hard his entire head ached.  “Do not presume,” he said, “to believe that you know the first thing about me.”

“What, like the way you don’t know anything about me?” she retorted, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.  “You’re with us now because as far as you’re concerned, we’re the better option to get you to Storybrooke.  Before you ran into us, you were working with Cora, because she was your better option – hell, she’s the one who sent you to find us!  I may not know much about Cora, but I know she has power and I _know_ she knows how to use people; she probably promised you that she’d take you with her if you just did this _one little thing_ for her.  Only I’m willing to bet that ‘one little thing’ became one more, and then another, and another, and she’s been drawing the noose tighter around your neck every single time.  And you’ve _let her_ , because she keeps promising you a shot at your _vengeance_ , she keeps dangling that little carrot just out of your reach.”

Everything in him wanted to howl a denial, but there were so many possible responses that they were choking him – and in the end, he was unable to say a single word to refute her.

But Swan wasn’t finished anyway, no, she had to twist the knife just a little bit further.  “I’m also willing to guess that you didn’t start with her,” she went on, “that _she_ became your better option after you were working with someone else and _they_ sent you to Cora.  Because they promised you that _they_ could get you to Rumpelstiltskin if you did… something.”  She paused for breath, blew a strand of hair out of her face.  _Well?_ her expression seemed to say.  _How did I do_?

He couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t stand to meet her eyes.  Killian forced himself to look away, to look anywhere else, instead of attacking her, knocking her to the ground and – It wasn’t her _place_ to see such things, _he_ was the one who got under people’s defenses, he wasn’t the one to be read like –

He stalked off toward the entrance, breathing heavily; so angry, phantom pains were telling him that he was clenching both fists as he fought the urge to turn around and scream at her.

Even an idiot would have seen how furious he was at that point, would have kept their mouth shut.  Anybody who had ever _heard_ of him, his reputation, would have known they were taking their life into their hands.  But not Swan.  No, not her.  “Anybody – anybody at all – could come to you right now and if you thought they had a better offer you’d turn on us in a _heartbeat,_ ” she called after him.

Killian had her pinned against a wall, his fist on her collar and his hook at her throat, before he was even aware he’d moved.  The girl had reflexively brought her hands up to cover his wrists, but was at least smart enough not to struggle.  They were both breathing hard now, her eyes wide but unflinching, his narrowed to slits.

“What – exactly – do you think you’re doing,” he said to her, voice low and deadly.  So close he could feel her breath, warm on his mouth.

Swan blinked a couple of times, rapidly, and he felt her throat move under his knuckles as she swallowed.  “Something new,” she said, voice thin but determined.  “It’s called trust.”

Killian froze.

“I know, all that, about you,” she said slowly, deliberately, “and I let you go anyway.  I could have left you chained up here, and been halfway down the beanstalk by now, but I didn’t.  Instead, I not only let you go, I went ahead and told you things I didn’t want to say, things I have _never_ spoken aloud to another living soul.  And then, I went ahead and told you things that you don’t want to hear, even though you need to.”

He was pulling back now, to get a better look at her face, his grip slackening as his eyes widened.  “Why?” was the only word he could say, the only thing he could find in his head.  “ _Why_?”

“Why what?” she returned.

 _Why let him go?_ he wanted to say.  Why tell him her life’s story?  Why provoke him nearly to the breaking point, and Fortune help him, why the _hell_ throw her lot in with him after pointing out all the reasons she had not to?

He shook his head once, hard, trying to silence all the buzzing thoughts. “All of it,” he rasped.  He let go her collar and stepped back a pace.

Emma cocked her head at him, but seemed to understand what he meant.  “Because of the dreams, a little,” she said.  “Because you _might_ still turn on us if I let you go, but if I left you behind, here, you definitely would.  Because… if I’m being honest with myself, you haven’t done anything – yet – to put you in the same category as… Henry’s father.”  She ducked her head, huffed a little laugh.  “Because I don’t want to disappoint my _mom_ ,” she said, and why exactly did he find that so charming?  “And because of something you said, just a minute ago.  The thing about using the information I had.”

Now it was Killian’s turn to cock his head, and an eyebrow.  This should be entertaining…  He looked at her through his lashes, gestured elegantly for her to continue.  “I’m all ears, love.”

Her expression grew pensive, staring off into space past his shoulder.  “It was the _using_ part,” she said after a moment.  “Um… how do I put it.  A bunch of different ideas, I guess.  About using information.  About having the information you need, so that you _can_ use it.  About being used, yourself.  And I was asking myself, what did I _have_ , what could – what could _I_ use…” She shook her head.  “It’s all jumbled together.  Like I said – I didn’t mean to say anything out loud, it was just… part of all that.  The way Cora is using you, and what she might want.  I mean – have you thought about that?  About why it benefits her to help you, at all, much less bring you to Storybrooke?”

Killian looked at the ground for a moment, thinking.  Stepped back another pace, indicated the entrance with his head.  Turned away from her and began to walk, more calmly this time.  He waited for Swan to catch up and fall into step beside him before bringing himself to admit, “Perhaps… not as much as I ought to have.”

She nodded, didn’t look at him.  “And then _that_ got me thinking, what could _we_ use against her, if – if we could take the way she’s using you and turn it around…”

“I must say, darling, that phrase grows no sweeter with repetition,” he said evenly.  Stepped over the tripwire, held out his hand to assist her across.  Of course Swan ignored it.

“Yeah, well,” she sighed, “it’s like I said.  I know what it’s like to have a _really_ big blind spot around something… painful.”  She rubbed her eyes tiredly.  “Believe me when I tell you it makes a person pretty easy to manipulate.”

“I suppose you think I should simply walk away from it, then,” he said.  “The need to avenge myself.  Avenge _her_.”

“That’s not for me to decide,” she said.  “What I do think is that when you focus that intensely on something, it’s easy to forget that you need to stop, look around, see the rest of the world once in awhile.  And not even in a ‘stop and smell the roses’ way, either.  More of a, ‘wow, did they really think I wouldn’t notice that trap they’re setting for me’ kind of way.”

He considered that for a moment. “Something to keep in mind, love,” he said, “– walking away is not going to happen.  I will do whatever is necessary to _end_ him.  I will do what I _must_.”

“Hard to do that when Cora or whoever keeps saying, ‘oh wait, not yet, you need to do this first,’” she said mildly.

“Yes, all right, Cora has been stringing me along like some puling whelp,” he snapped.  Took a breath to steady himself.  “Does it _please_ you to keep rubbing that in?”

“No,” she said immediately.  “And I’ll stop, now that I’m sure you really _see_ it.  The question is – just like you asked me – what are you gonna do about it?”


	7. Chapter 7

_“Yes, all right, Cora has been stringing me along like some puling whelp,” he snapped.  Took a breath to steady himself.  “Does it please you to keep rubbing that in?”_

_“No,” she said immediately.  “And I’ll stop, now that I’m sure you really see it.  The question is – just like you asked me – what are you gonna do about it?”_

 

They’d reached the courtyard and were halfway to the ring that bounded the top of the stalk itself, before Killian replied.  “Well,” he said, “I suppose that’s something that bears thinking about, isn’t it?”

“Mm,” said Swan.  Climbed up onto the ring.  “That’s one thing that definitely makes sticking with us your best option.”

“Oh?” Killian leapt lightly up beside her.  “You mean besides traveling with four feisty lovelies instead of one vicious hag?”  He found a likely handhold and swung out over the void.  “However _do_ you decide your sleeping arrangements each evening?”

Swan checked her foothold, then leaned around to put her nose within kissing distance.  “Just for the record,” she said, “I _really_ don’t care how long it’s been since your last shore leave.”  He grinned, and she quirked an eyebrow in response.  “Seriously.  Just – keep it in your shorts, and save the pickup lines for the nearest bar.”  She picked her way down a few feet before saying, “We’re your best option, and we’ll _stay_ your best option, because I’m not gonna dangle a carrot in front of your nose.”

“Is that right?” he asked.  Hard not to be skeptical after everything she’d said earlier.  She had enough reasons to mistrust him, why _not_ try to rein him in with one condition after another?

“Yep,” she grunted.  “I have a condition, but it isn’t ‘do this for me first and then’.  I don’t do leashes.”

“Pity,” he smirked down at her, “you’ve no trouble with ropes and chains…” and she reached over and punched him in the calf.  “Hey!”

“You earned that,” she said.  Which he had, of course, but he saw no need to admit to it.

“So what is this famous condition of yours?” he asked.

“Back in my world,” she said, “I have a duty to uphold the law.  To enforce the rules; keep people from solving all their problems with a – a pry bar or a stupid brawl.”  Emma stopped climbing, waited for him to draw even with her.  “This thing, between you and Gold – technically, I’m obligated to stop it from happening… but I won’t.”

Generous of her, since it wasn’t as if she’d be able to anyway.

“I don’t expect you to drop it, and if you help us get back home, I…” she shut her eyes, and Killian got the idea that she was steeling herself to say something unpleasant for her.  Taking a deep breath she said, “I won’t interfere.  _But_ –”   That fire in her eyes was back, and once again Killian found himself captivated.  “ _You will swear_ to me that whatever goes on between the two of you, _stays_ between the two of you.  You won’t drag anybody else into your fight.  Because if you do,” she pressed, “if other people are harmed because of your vendetta, I will have no choice but to stop you.  And let me promise you, right here, right now – if you hurt an innocent bystander, I _will_ put you down.”

On the other hand, perhaps she _would_ be able, at that.

Killian found that he wasn’t quite certain how to reply to her; acquiesce, rebel?  Be serious, flippant?  But Swan began to climb again, and was several feet below him before he could come up with a response.

 

 

 

For about an hour they climbed in silence, for which Killian was grateful.  He had much to contemplate, and none of it brought him comfort.

He’d said it to Regina once, not all that long ago subjectively speaking – “ _Do I look like I’m playing chess?_ ”  And indeed he hadn’t been, as it turned out; Regina at least had been forthright in her admission of using him, but under Cora’s thumb he’d become even more of a pawn.  He’d been, Killian realized, not valued for his skills, so much as useful for his vengeance itself – useful primarily _because_ he had a single-minded focus on balancing the scales against the murderer of his love.

Why _would_ Cora want to help him, come to think of it?

Assuming he was successful in ending Rumpelstiltskin’s life, Killian thought, his success would have aided the witch by removing a potential obstacle in her path toward her own goals.  And even if he were to fail, well, no doubt the attempt would have provided a useful distraction at an opportune moment – opportune for Cora, to be precise.  Swan was right; very likely Cora would have gotten them to Storybrooke and then “discovered” some reason for him to delay, found some way to convince Killian to stay his hand until _she_ was ready for him to strike.  He’d _needed_ Cora, up to this point; but the reverse was not true.  As far as she was concerned, Killian was completely expendable.

Swan may not care to aid him in the pursuit of his goals, but at least she respected them.  She’d also said she wouldn’t hamper him, and Killian thought he could take Swan at her word, whereas Cora…

Remaining allied with Cora cheapened Killian’s vengeance of Milah’s murder.  By extension, remaining allied with her cheapened Milah herself. 

The realization sank in and brought anger with it, slowly as the tides, but just as inexorable.  His rage toward Rumpelstiltskin was a hot fire within his chest, but this anger sat deep and cold within his bones.

Swan was right, to his _eternal_ vexation.

So – as she she’d already asked him – what _did_ he plan to do about it?

Killing the witch was out of the question; even if Cora lost her magic in Emma’s land, she still had no heart within her chest.  Hm, an entertaining thought – perhaps being heartless, she’d simply drop dead the moment she arrived in Storybrooke.  Amusing, but unlikely – if for no other reason, his luck had been on the ebb lately and he couldn’t imagine something so fortunate happening now.  Perhaps he could behead her?  But no; the Queen of Hearts was famous in the tales for beheading those who displeased _her_ ; Killian could well imagine she had some sort of defense against that as well.

Force was out; that left cunning, only _that_ led to yet another question: how might one manage to outfox one of the most conniving, cold-blooded creatures he’d ever met?

Killian bared his teeth in a silent snarl, tempted to take a moment to slash this beanstalk to dripping shreds; not that he had anything against beanstalks, but it was the only thing nearby that he could destroy in hopes of venting some of the anger, the frustration, the infuriating _helplessness_ he felt.  He paused in his climb, struggling for calm, even as he reared back to drive his hook deep into the trunk; but before he could do so…

“You okay?” said Emma, a little ways above him.

Wait.  Above him?  When had he passed her in their climb?

“I could ask you the same, love,” he replied, shoving the anger down as he always did.  There would be time to indulge it later.

“Just thinking,” she said, though he thought he could detect something just slightly _off_ about her voice.  “If we’re going to change any of the things I dreamed about, we need some kind of plan.”

“I admit I’ve been pondering much the same thing,” he said, some of his earlier anger coming back.  “As you so kindly put it, the witch has been using me to achieve her ends, and I am not inclined to allow her to continue.”

“Mm,” she grunted.  Struggled a few more feet; Killian narrowed his eyes.  Swan was definitely moving more slowly than she had been.  Perhaps she was simply tired?  It wasn’t as though she was accustomed to this sort of thing, after all.  “Question for you,” she said after a moment.  “Do the words, ‘dried-up, dead, useless’ mean anything to you?”

“You’ve recalled another fragment, I take it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, “but since I think you were originally talking to _me_ I’m feelin’ a little concerned.”

He hummed in thought.  “Given that you originally planned to leave me up there to die –”

“You _weren’t_ going to die –”

“– once I’d gotten free, I expect I’d have either attempted to find you, or tried to get back into Cora’s good graces.”  Swan gave him an incredulous _look_ , and he shook his head at her, exasperated.  “What would you have me do?  She has the ashes, you have the compass; if you weren’t willing to take me with you to your world, then she becomes my only option.”  He dropped a few more feet easily, waited for her to catch up.  “Assuming we crossed paths again, darling, I doubt I’d have had many kind words for you.”

“Point,” she conceded.

“In any case, I likely would have been referring to this.”  Wrapping his hooked arm around a pair of vines to steady himself, Killian reached into a vest pocket and pulled out his little souvenir.  “The giant was wearing it, when we knocked him out with the sleeping powder.”

Emma leaned closer, eyes widening.  “Is that a bean?  A – a _portal_ bean?”

“Well, it was once,” Killian replied.  Swan reached for it and he snatched it back with a smirk.  “Ah, ah – _you’ve_ got the compass; _I’m_ keeping this, as a memento of our time together.”

“I just wanted to see it,” she frowned.  “Anyway, if it’s dead, does it still do the… portal thing?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he said, sobering.  “But perhaps there’s a way to restore its potency.  It might serve as a fallback should Cora succeed in her plans, and leave us behind.”

“Well, don’t look at me,” Emma muttered.  “All I know about magic is a card trick I learned when I was eight.  And a couple disappearing-coin things I picked up in prison.  But that’s, y’know, sleight-of-hand, not… _magic-_ magic.”

Killian looked at her, amused.  “You’ll have to show them to me sometime,” he said, and bit his tongue to keep from laughing when she rolled her eyes.

“Focus,” she said.  “Plan?”

“Too right,” he said.  “But first, I’m not sure you answered my question earlier.”

“Huh?”

“Are you all right, lass,” he repeated.  It was clear now; he was climbing much more quickly than she, without even putting any effort into hurrying.  “You seem unwell.”

Emma looked down at him from under her arm.  “I’m fine,” she said, but he could hear the strain in her voice, now that she wasn’t trying so hard to disguise it, and her hands were gripping the vines a little too tightly.

“Now, why don’t I believe you?” asked Killian, once more waiting for her to catch up to him, so he could get a better look.  “What’s wrong?”

“It’s _nothing_ ,” she insisted, and there it was.  She wasn’t merely tired as he’d first suspected; that was pain he was hearing.

“Swan.”

“Drop it, Hook,” she said.  “It’s no big deal.”

“Whatever it is, it’s slowing you down,” he pressed, “you’ve nearly stopped climbing.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t just splash some rum on this and make it go away,” she grunted.  “Although I admit a drink sounds really nice right about now.”

Killian drew back a bit, and she took that as her cue to keep moving.  He looked her over as she reached for the next hand- and footholds.  Nothing bleeding, she wasn’t obviously favoring a limb…

“The giant,” he guessed.  “I couldn’t see, being buried under half the cavern ceiling, but it sounded like a bit of a battle there for a moment.”

Swan closed her eyes and propped her forehead on the back of her hand. “Yeah, kind of,” she sighed. “I got… a little banged up, I guess.  But it’s nothing serious.”

Killian said nothing, and when she opened her eyes again, let his expression do the talking.

“I mean it!” she said.  “Nothing’s broken, or anything like that – I’m just a little stiff and sore, is all.  I’ll be fine.”

And of course that was the moment when the entire beanstalk shuddered beneath their hands, and a shimmering light rippled up past them a moment later.  Killian could feel it tingle in his fingers, and his hook carried the sensation to his left wrist as well.

Emma groaned.  He looked up sharply, to see if she’d slipped, but she had a look of resigned annoyance on her face that would have been comical, if the entire stalk wasn’t beginning to sway in the wind.

“Oh, _perfect_ ,” was all she said. “Just… perfect.”

“Mulan?” he asked.

“Mulan.”

Looked like their time had run out.


	8. Chapter 8

_“Oh, perfect,” was all she said. “Just… perfect.”_

_“Mulan?” he asked._

_“Mulan.”_

_Looked like their time had run out._

 

The beanstalk shuddered again, another tingling ripple of energy following soon after.

Right, then.

“Keep climbing,” said Killian, quickly moving from one foothold to the next. “Catch me up as soon as you can.”

“Wait, where the hell are you going?” Swan asked, reaching for the nearest vine with a grimace.

“ _Down_ , Emma, where does it bloody _look_ like I’m going?” He paused, glanced up, saw the barely-concealed panic on her face. “Oh, honestly, darling – are you truly going to suddenly stop trusting me _now_? You have the compass, I can move faster, neither of us wants to die when this beanstalk comes tumbling down. So: you keep climbing, I’ll see if I can convince your sword-loving friend to grant us a few more minutes.”

Without waiting for a reply, he kicked out and let himself drop through the air, straight down the side of the beanstalk, catching himself with a grunt after about fifteen feet or so. Scrambled sideways, found another likely landing spot, and dropped again.

While one of the advantages to being ship’s captain might be that he no longer had to climb the rigging every day, that didn’t mean he’d ever forgotten how.  He hadn’t spent all those years on deck for nothing; after laboring to trim sail in countless storms and freezing gales, half-blinded by rain with the seas _flinging_ the ship to and fro, a steady beanstalk on a sunny day was virtually a stroll in the Royal Gardens. To be sure, deliberately pitching himself over the side like this was a more reckless way to get to the deck – well, ground – but needs must in an emergency, and the current situation certainly qualified.

In less than a minute Killian could see them, still an unhealthy distance below; the soldier and Snow White were rolling about in the dirt, while the princess fretted at them from the side. He couldn’t make out words, but he imagined she was more likely begging them to stop than urging them on.

Would’ve been hilarious, in other circumstances.

Another handful of controlled drops put Killian within calling distance, hopefully close enough that he wouldn’t risk drawing every ogre in a mile radius.

“Oi!” The two fighting were up off the ground now, but they were still snapping and snarling at one another and didn’t look up. One more drop; catch himself with a grunt and a slip of one foot; grasp for purchase on any tendrils and vines he could reach. “Oi!” he called again. “Miladies! If you don’t mind.”

Success; all three of them stopped and looked up, shading their eyes against the sun in near-perfect synchrony. Again, it would’ve been worth a laugh, if his life weren’t currently at risk from their activities. Killian glanced at the forest around them, searching for any sign of ogres; finding none, he waved his arm, letting the hook flash in the sunlight.

“Hook!” Couldn’t tell from here which one of them spoke.

“In the flesh,” he replied. “We were hoping –”

“Where’s Emma?” Ah, now that was unmistakably Snow White, and look, she’d gathered her bow and quiver off the ground. How lovely. “ _Where is my daughter?”_

“Farther up,” he said.

“Not good enough,” Snow growled, and set an arrow to the string.

Killian rolled his eyes, though they couldn’t see it from so far below.  “It may not satisfy you, milady, but it’s the entire truth,” he said. “We were successful, and the lady Swan not only has the compass, she managed to make _friends_ with the giant into the bargain.  As I was saying, we were hoping to make it safely down again before you finished chopping the beanstalk out from under us.”

“Then why isn’t she with you?” said the princess. Aura, something like that. He hadn’t really paid attention when the soldier spoke her name; speaking of rose petals and spun sugar, honestly, he had no idea what she was even doing in the forest in the first place. Decorative, and useless, just as he’d said to Emma.

“Funnily enough, Emma claims to come from a realm without any magic in it, and it appears that she doesn’t climb enchanted beanstalks up into the clouds on a daily basis,” he said, gesturing at the vines and leaves around him, “and therefore isn’t moving quite as quickly as I can, when necessary. For example, when someone is trying to _chop the bloody beanstalk out from under us_.”

“Emma told me t–”

“Yes, yes, I know, if she wasn’t down in ten hours’ time you were to cut it down, leave her behind, make sure neither the giant nor I could catch up with you later and cut your throats while you slept, or some other such nonsense.”

Mulan scowled. “Knowing this, you expect us to trust your words, when you appear without her?”

“Of course I don’t,” he shrugged. “You’ll notice I’m not on the ground yet.  In fact,” he squinted back up the stalk, “I’ve every intention of assisting her back down safely and not setting foot to earth until she’s back in her mother’s loving embrace.”  Killian shifted his grip, preparing to climb back up. “But she’s a bit tired, has had something of an ordeal, and needs more time to make it down, preferably without having to fear for her life from you lot, in the meantime.”

The three women shared a glance between them. “How much time?” said the soldier after a moment.

Hmm. Given that Swan had virtually stopped moving... he had no idea of the extent of her injuries, nor how serious they truly were. _A little banged up_ , she’d said. _A little stiff and sore, is all_.  That might be the truth, or it might not. She’d be unlikely to admit weakness to the likes of him, after all.

“I’d say two hours, at most,” he finally estimated. “Probably less.” He could see them weighing his statement, wondering what trick he might have up his sleeve. Did he want them to wait around and be captured by Cora? Was he allied with the giant and waiting for him to come and crush them?

Killian sighed and reached into his satchel.  “Here, catch,” he called. Gently tossed his spyglass clear of the vines, hoping they wouldn’t just let it smash to the ground.  The soldier caught it, looked it over, handed it to Emma’s mother. “Don’t point it at the sun,” he instructed snidely.

Turned and began the climb back up to Emma’s side.

 

 

 

By the time he reached her, Killian found himself in something of a snit, unable to shake his irritation at the women waiting for him below. For all intents and purposes, he had crawled all over this damned beanstalk twice today, and the second time purely for Emma’s benefit.  As a sailor, aye, Killian might be accustomed to climbing, but even he could grow weary after so many hours of it. The stump of his wrist was throbbing underneath the leather brace, and he had a feeling that even through the calluses he’d begun to chafe and blister from the sustained heavy pulling he’d been doing. He was hungry, and his muscles were beginning to ache with fatigue. He could, quite frankly, really use an opportunity to take a piss.

Above all, though, Killian was getting heartily sick of being greeted with glares and accusation every time he showed his face in front of these women. What in all the realms was it going to take to get them to accept him?

 _Not aligning yourself with Cora in the first place, you lackwit_ , he answered sourly.

Despite his mood, when at last he caught sight of Emma’s red leather coat, he still managed to muster up a smile. She wasn’t the one still refusing to trust him, after all.  Killian hove himself into view and offered her a greeting:

“Ahoy. Swan. How fares the climb, lass?”

Her reaction, however…

“Jesus Christ!” she gasped. “What the hell, Hook? You just – holy shit –”

…was somewhat less than thrilling.

“You seem surprised to see me, love,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Why, were you expecting me to leave you behind the way you’d planned to leave me?”

Which was, perhaps, unfair of him to bring up, but he’d had quite enough suspicion and mistrust for one day. He’d really thought he and Emma had moved past this. She had changed her plan entirely, and opted to trust him, based only on the dubious advice of a few dream fragments and his own exhortations. If it turned out that she’d changed her mind while Killian was apart from her – trying to buy her time to climb while injured –

“What do you – you _jumped_!” she exclaimed. “You just – you said you’d be back and then you just let go and _disappeared_ , I mean, what the hell were you thinking, you could’ve been _killed_!”

He’d already opened his mouth to snap a reply when her words actually sank in; fortunately, he’d always been able to change tack quickly.

“Ah,” he said, “so you were worried for me, then.” Killian hoisted himself up the last few feet to her side, leaned in to rest his cheek against the side of the stalk. Dropped his voice to something more appropriate for cuddling with a bedmate, gave her a mock-pout. “Did you miss me so terribly as all that, darling?”

Emma’s eyes were wide, an expression on her face that practically screamed _you-must-be-joking-you-incredible-fool_.

It was the perfect cure for his foul mood.

“You _let go of the beanstalk_ ,” she said slowly, with false calm, spelling it out for him one word at a time. “We’re roughly a _bazillion feet_ off the ground. You were practically _asking_ to get squished like a _rotten tomato on the sidewalk_.”

“You realize,” he couldn’t resist saying, “I have absolutely no idea what you just said.”

“Of course I was worried about you!” she snapped.  “What the hell, Hook, are you crazy or suicidal?!”

Well, that was… somewhat unexpected, given their interactions so far. Not a question to which she would likely want an honest answer, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“Pirate, darling,” he replied with an elegant shrug. “We have rather a flexible definition of what constitutes sanity.”

“No kidding,” she said with feeling. “ _God_.”

She was, indeed, lifting his spirits, and he found it entirely too endearing for his own safety. If Emma kept this up, or if Killian kept watching her face, he was going to burst out laughing in delight, and then she might well push him off the beanstalk herself. Already he was finding it impossible to stop grinning like an idiot.

Imagining the two of them on adventures together, plundering the seas. Imagining other scenarios with her that would never, ever happen.

Well. There was the cure for his better mood.

“Can you still climb?” he asked abruptly, his smile dropping away. “It’s difficult to tell one vine from another, but you don’t appear to have made much progress since I left.”

Emma turned her face away for a second, but he still caught the grimace as she took a deep breath. “Yeah,” she said, though she didn’t sound terribly confident. “I’m – it’s pretty slow going, but yeah.”

“Let’s keep at it, then,” he replied. “Your friends have agreed to give us more time; it probably helps that I’m permitting them to borrow my spyglass, so they can follow your progress.”

“Didn’t want to take your word for it, did they,” she guessed.

“No.”

Killian kept the sudden scowl from showing, but couldn’t help the wash of annoyance he felt.

_“You should be used to people not trusting you.”_

_“Ah, the pirate thing.”_

And indeed, he was accustomed; mistrust was part and parcel of the fear his name inspired. But his reputation wasn’t working to his advantage right now, their behavior towards him risked interfering with his goals, and he would not abide it much longer.

Pity the two of them couldn’t simply leave the other three behind and –

Hook fought back a growl of frustration. _No._

It wasn’t so much that he wouldn’t be able to have her all to himself, as it was the fact that he was even considering it in the first place.

Again.

 _Means to an end, mate_ , he reminded himself. Irritated that he still needed reminding, where Swan was concerned. _You’re using one another, nothing more._ _She won’t let you bed her, she’s not so stupid as to let you try._

_She deserves better than the likes of you, anyway._

_Shut. Up._ Killian grit his teeth and pulled away from her _. What do I care what she bloody deserves. The Swan girl is a means to an end. Nothing more. Get it through your thick skull. I am far too close to success, after all these countless years, to allow a cockstand to distract me now._

Even so, he couldn’t help but linger on the notion that taking her to bed would be an adventure all its own. Killian was nearly ready to slap himself to get his mind back on track.

_“Using one another,” please. You’re not going to bed her, and you know it. You’re not so stupid as to think you could get away with it if you tried – what would be your plan, pleasure her till she can scarcely move, then steal the compass and run? Not bloody likely._

“So what is the plan, then?” he asked aloud.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's everything. I believe had planned for her to make it down and them to discover she was all banged and bruised from the giant squeezing her, but it's been a few years and I can't remember what I had planned next, or whether Cora would show up, or what. So I was never able to finish this fic, and then the show got even weirder and I stopped watching, and now here we are. I hope you enjoyed it anyway, if you read it this far, and thank you if you did.
> 
> If you want to leave extra kudos, you're welcome to stop by [my Tumblr blog](http://peaceheather.tumblr.com) and say hello.


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